


Ultraviolence

by GreenPhoenix



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 04:44:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1805758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenPhoenix/pseuds/GreenPhoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keller and his relationship with Beecher through the series. Was it love? If not, what is love really? In Oz, can there be love?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ultraviolence

It’s not love; it’s a dangerous obsession-Sister Pete.  
He hit me and it felt like a kiss-The Crystals and Lana Del Rey.

 

What is love, really? So many things are done in its name, much like Christianity, it has cloaked hate and murder and slavery. When did he know he loved someone? When he didn’t kill them after he’d finally consummated that desire that raged like a sickness in his blood, turning it a darker shade of black. Was it love when his father beat him black and blue for stealing money from collection after mass? Was it love when the parish priest showed him unholy acts in the dark? When Vern made a man out of a cocky boy? All those things happened and they were perversions of love. 

 

It was love when he got Bonnie back a second time, even after he’d broken every piece of her heart just because it was fun to see her squirm. It made the voice inside his head shut up for a little while. The little nagging voice saying if you let someone control you, they own you. And if they own you, you’re helpless, a slave to them. He was a slave to his father, the priest, Vern. Well, never again. He’d graduated from pragdom to being a master and it had taken broken bones, and a lot of bloodshed. And he still wasn’t done. Bonnie left him and made a cuckold out of him with a nerdy neighbor. So he got drugged up and robbed a liquor store and that earned him 88 cool ones in Oz.

 

Vern had a plan for him, seduce and abandon a rich lawyer. Easy pickings and he guessed he owed Vern something. Beecher was easily seduced, desperate for someone to trust, someone to love, and how easily did he admit to that love that dare not speak its name, after a sob story about Bonnie getting married. Well it was true, but he didn’t really care. Not even a little bit. He kissed Toby and felt something besides his cock stir; an unnamed feeling that pulled his insides out. Fuck no; he’d never be vulnerable again. Not in a place that eats weaklings for breakfast. So he went ahead and broke Toby’s heart and limbs to keep from falling. Break him as much as possible, deny any love between them. There, now he’d never take him back. Never. 

 

Trouble was, with Toby in the infirmary under Gloria’s tender care, he was all alone. He didn’t hang with Vern and his dumbshit Aryans, why should he? Less suspicious to be on his own. To nurse a heart that was in no way broken by what he did to Toby, no way. He had the pod, their pod to himself. It still smelled of Toby even weeks later. He jerked off thinking of kissing Toby, of breaking his heart, of maybe fucking him at last. Damn, he should have fucked him while he could. It was never going to happen now was it? Unless he could convince Toby that he still loved him, that he was really sorry. Yes, that way he was still in control and wouldn’t that be a blast. He’d have to turn his back on Vern, but wasn’t it time to kill the father and move on, finally grow up and be a daddy. 

 

Toby resisted him, and refused to forgive him, and even shanked him. Didn’t stop his need for him, didn’t make him stop craving a fucking kiss. He wanted Toby desperately now, naked underneath him crying out his name, kissing him, walking beside him so everyone could see whose bitch, lover, man he was. He wanted to give him a tattoo beside the ugly swastika Vern made, maybe with his name. He wanted everything he could get from Toby, all the love and hate he could give. 

 

Getting Toby back was wonderful, he knew he’d fuck it up eventually, but it felt good to finally have him crave his company and to fuck him every night. He did it till they both were sore, kissed Toby till it made his lips bloody. He couldn’t quite control the man Toby had become after his murders and schemes, but he could try. He needed to be on top, even if he sometimes let Toby do him just to show he wasn’t totally selfish, that he wasn’t Vern. Plus submitting to someone was kind of liberating at times. He’d never do it for anyone but Toby.

 

All the sacrifices he made were for Toby’s sake. Pushing him away, taking the rap for Hanks’ murder. Toby had wormed his way into his heart and clawed out a place in the dim and echoing chambers. When he took the final fall, it was to let Toby live, live without him. Be at peace. But when he shouted “Beecher, no!” it was because he couldn’t let Toby forget him. He couldn’t leave without that shank into his life. “If I die, don’t forget me,” he’d said. Now Toby never would.

 

Was it love? Was it just a dangerous obsession as Pete said? He’d died with a kiss, and still stabbing Toby’s heart through. He died loving and hating Toby. Just as Toby had always loved and hated him in equal measure. Love is a broken language, punctuated by the deeds of man. It is bloody and violent, just like Oz. But how else could it be, in this harsh and brutal place? Love was ultraviolence, stumbling every step towards heaven, which was forever out of reach. Oz made every loving act into a stab to the heart, but the feeling behind remained, even if the actions tainted it. Hell was full of sinners, and their remorse might free them.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Oz-prompt-a-thon-2014.


End file.
